


And I Will Wear That Dress

by the_rogue_bitch



Series: The Selkirk Grace [4]
Category: Lonesome Dove: The Outlaw Years
Genre: Call bumbles his way through feels what are those, Clothing, Dancing, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Frottage, Gift Fic, Heterosexuality, Jealousy, Original Character(s), Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2383169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rogue_bitch/pseuds/the_rogue_bitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in many years, Curtis Wells has a town social. Call wants Aden to go with him. Aden takes some convincing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Will Wear That Dress

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift!fic for my friend Rosilyn from the LD list on Yahoo back in the day. She wanted me to have Call teaching Aden how to dance and my response was, "how in the hell would that ever happen?" and so she sent me a list of things to include in the story. She provided a lot of the dialogue around Call convincing Aden to go with him to the social, and created the character of Claire Cerney. The original title was something prosaic like "The Dance" because it predated Sixpence None the Richer. 
> 
> As usual, all love to [tryxchange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryxchange) for reading, commenting, and enthusiasm.

Kiss me out of the bearded barley  
Nightly, beside the green, green grass  
Swing, swing, swing the spinning step  
You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress.  
Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight  
Lead me out on the moonlit floor  
Lift your open hand  
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance  
Silver moon's sparkling  
So kiss me. -- Sixpence None the Richer

**

It was mid-April in Curtis Wells and spring was being coy. Though the sun was warm, the frost held on in the lee of the buildings until it was touched by direct sunlight. The streets were mudholes covered by a deceptive rind of ice. The citizenry counted themselves lucky that the snow was gone and didn't complain. 

Not much, anyway.

Mattie Shaw strode down the boardwalk and into the street. The mud sucked and grabbed at her boots and threatened to topple her over.

She tried to take a step, and her boot came off.

"Dammit," Mattie stood, cranelike, trying to figure out how to retrieve her footwear and get out of traffic. Finally, she put her foot back in her boot and _pulled_ until it came out with a repulsive sucking noise. She then scuttled quickly to the steps leading to the next boardwalk, and into Claire Cerney's shop.

The proprietress, a warm looking woman in her early thirties, smiled at Mattie. "I saw you out there. I was going to offer to help, but I wasn't sure what I could do." 

Mattie observed Claire's pretty dress and nice boots and smiled wryly.

"I _don't_ think you’d’ve been much help!" She laughed. "Better if I fall in it, these are easier to clean," Mattie indicated her trousers. "I just wish there was something we could do about all that mud in the street."

Claire looked outside speculatively, then brightened. "I have an idea! I'll tell you about it later, if I can get it going. Now, I believe you came in here for some unmentionables?"

"I sure did."

Claire and Mattie completed their transaction and Mattie left. Claire stared out of the window again, a contemplative look on her face.

She had arrived in Curtis Wells the previous autumn and set herself up as a milliner and dressmaker, and was enjoying good business. The women of the town were starved for fripperies, and Miss Cerney did not discriminate, much to the chagrin of those ladies who considered themselves of a higher class. Even Twyla's girls were welcome in Claire's shop. In Claire's view, money was money, and she hadn't come to Curtis Wells to starve.

As a cultured woman in a relatively rough and tumble town, she'd naturally caught the attention of Clay Mosby. Miss Cerney had made it clear from the start that she had no interest in being courted, but afternoon teas and walks were lovely pastimes, and she would enjoy his company.

Just then, the object of her reverie passed by the shop. She moved quickly to the door and opened it. "Mr. Mosby!"

Mosby turned and doffed his hat, smiling. "Good morning to you, Miss Cerney."

"Have lunch with me today. I have something I wish to discuss with you."

"The Dove at noon?" Mosby queried.

"Fine," Claire turned and went back into the shop.

"The lady calls and I obey," Mosby murmured to himself, amused by his acquiescence to her request.

***

Sometime after his lunch with Claire, Mosby and Josiah met in the newspaper office. Passersby later noted that the press was running. The next day, Unbob was dispatched to post handbills, which read: "Town Social! Help Raise Money For The Beautification Of Curtis Wells! Bring Items To Sell -- Dance That Evening In The Opera House -- To Be Held Saturday May First."

Mosby sent his men to deliver the messages to the outlying homesteads.

Soon the whole town was abuzz. It had been so long since there'd been a community event, no one could remember. Claire found herself swamped with work and had to hire a few of the local girls to assist her. 

Mattie stomped around in a bad mood for a few days when she realized she'd be off on a business trip during that weekend. Claire soothed her by stating, "If this turns out to be a success, then we'll probably have another one. I'll check with you about the date before we make a general announcement. All right?"

"Fine." Mattie glowered.

Call rode back into town amidst this hubbub, well pleased with himself. He'd just made quite a lot of money and was looking forward to coasting on it for a while. He noticed that the town was more agitated than usual, but paid it no mind, preferring to stable the Hellbitch and drop his bags in his room at the Dove. He then headed out to his usual spot outside of Creel's for an hour or so of well-earned sloth. As he was settling on the bench, a handbill announcing the town social caught his eye.

Standing up, he examined it minutely, then smiled to himself, thinking of a certain small, strong-willed woman he'd only seen in a dress once, and the effect it’d had on him.

Call sat back on the bench, tipped his hat over his eyes, and commenced to ruminate.

***

Call had a busy morning the next day. He slept in, and then had a talk with the cook at the Lonesome Dove. After that, he made his way to Mattie's shop.

"Mattie," he said, by way of a greeting.

"Hey Call!" Mattie looked overly happy to see him, which always made him a bit uncomfortable.

"Can I borrow your wagon for a while?"

"Why?"

"I got to move some stuff," Call replied.

"What kind of stuff?"

"Can I borrow the wagon or not?" Call asked, exasperated.

Mattie smiled, pleased to have gotten his goat. "Sure. For how long?"

"About a week."

Mattie looked thoughtful. "Starting when?"

"This weekend."

"That's perfect, I'll be out of town, so I won't be needing it. I'll be missing the social, though," she looked sharply at Call. "You going to that?"

Call shrugged noncommittally. "Hadn't really thought about it."

Mattie raised her eyebrow but only said, "Come by Saturday, Unbob'll let you in. But I want that wagon back in good repair. No bullet holes!"

"It ain't that kind of trip, Mattie," Call replied, amused.

Mattie sighed. "Call, with you it always turns into that kind of trip."

Call quirked the corner of his mouth in a semi-smile and left Mattie's shop.

Anyone observing Call's movements after that would have noted a lengthy visit to Miss Cerney in her shop, and then Call making his way to Dr. Cleese's office. After that, Call went to the livery, saddled up the Hellbitch, and headed out of town.

***

I bent down to lift the fence rail and felt my trousers rip. Right across the seat. 

"Damn," I sighed. It was my last good pair of pants, all the rest having succumbed to the hard work I did and sitting in either the mending or rag pile.

"This is what I get for procrastinating," I muttered, making my way back to the house. I liked to make my own clothes, but mending them was another story. It was much too tedious, and not at all creative.

I went in, restoked the fire, and made myself a cup of tea. I took off the trousers, put on my robe, and fetched the pile of mending and my sewing things. I sighed again and got to work.

Sometime around the millionth stitch on the fiftieth patch (approximately), I heard a horse trot up and the sound of boots on the porch.

"Aden, it's Call. Can I come in?"

"Why can't he knock like other people?" I grumbled, before calling out, "Door’s open!"

Call strode in, jingling faintly. He collapsed into a chair.

"How you been?" I asked.

"Busy. Just got back into town. You?"

"I'm always busy. Just got done with Spot and Desdemona's calvings." I looked up at the man across from me. Something was off about him.

"Hmmm..." I said, wondering what Call seemed so disingenuous about, and bent back to my task, watching him through my eyelashes.

The fire crackled and Call stared into the flames. I heard him take a deep breath. 

"Aden, would you come to the town social with me?"

I stopped sewing and slowly looked up at Call. 

"Social?" I said faintly.

"You got the handbill, right?" Call was not reassured by my reaction, I could tell, but he plunged on nonetheless.

"I can't go to the social! I have too much to do here, nothing to wear, and besides, I can't dance," I protested, absolutely horrified.

"You have a whole week to learn. I’ll teach you," Call stated. "Get the Nelsens to look after the place for a couple of days. Don't worry about what you'll wear. Just come with me."

I looked down at the sewing in my lap and mumbled, "I won't know how to act."

"Course you will. That's a silly excuse and you know it. Please, Aden. Go to the social with me." Call leaned forward in his chair. He looked so earnest. I thought about how long it must've been since he'd attended a social event. When his wife was alive, surely, years ago.

If he was escorting me there, maybe I could put away my bad memories of my parents forcing me into a dress and bringing me to barn dances, where I would inevitably say the wrong thing while dancing clumsily with any boy nearest to my age. It was always a disaster that I was glad to escape. 

"Will you really teach me how to dance?" I asked tentatively.

"Yes."

"All right. I'll go with you."

Call broke into a boyish grin that made me glad I'd accepted.

"Then do this for me: don't work too hard Saturday, and don't have supper. I'll be back by then."

"You aren't staying?" I asked, disappointed, my anticipation of a nice night of lovemaking with Call evaporating like fog in a breeze.

"Nope. Too much to do. I'll be back Saturday, round suppertime. You remember what I told you." Call got up. He leaned down, kissed me quickly, and then strode out.

I shook my head. I hadn't worn a dress since that dinner with Mosby...

I stopped that thought before it led me down a particularly thorny path of recollection. _Anyway,_ I thought, _it'll be different._

***

I stepped out of the bathtub and wrapped my robe around me. The scent of roses filled the air, a remnant of the odor of the bath salts. I was as clean as soap and water could make me, and my damp hair fell down my back, the ends dripping.

From outside I heard the sound of a team and a wagon. It halted and I heard Call shout, “Aden!"

I came out onto the porch, excited, and stopped short. My mouth fell open.

“Call?"

He tipped his hat, which was new, and grinned. He was dressed in a new suit, a clean shirt, new boots and what's more, he had bathed. His hair, beard and mustache were clean and trimmed.

“Call?" I repeated, unable to say anything else.

“Come on out and look,” he said. I walked in a daze to the bed of the wagon. I saw a hamper basket, Dr. Cleese's phonograph, and an intimidatingly large array of boxes with bows from Miss Cerney's shop.

Call, still grinning, leapt down from the seat of the wagon and commenced to transfer its contents into the house. I just watched him, completely dumbfounded.

When he was done, Call gently took my wrist. “Come on, Aden. I need to you to empty your tub while I tend to the horses."

“What is this about?" I asked faintly.

“Just do it and I'll be right back."

I did as he told me and then milled around the table, smelling the savory odors emanating from the hamper.

Call came back and turned me to face him. I was still so confused that I let him.

"Aden, go into your room and get dressed for supper."

"All right." I went obediently to my bedroom. All of the boxes from Miss Cerney's shop were there. One was open, and I could glimpse a bit of lace and the shine of silk. I pulled out the dress and gasped.

Utterly bewildered, I went back out to Call, but he pointed wordlessly to the bedroom, a stern look on his face. I sighed and returned to it.

I took the lids off the boxes and stared at all that Call had brought me. There was a walking outfit, including a hat, a simple but elegant party dress, a shawl, underthings and stockings, and two pairs of shoes, one to go with each outfit.

I knew that Call must have had Claire's help in putting together the outfits, and this was confirmed when I saw the extravagant undergarments. He knew my preference for unfussy outerwear. Claire would have wanted to add lace and silk wherever possible. There was a lightly boned corset that pushed my modest endowments up and out as much as it could, but no improver.

 _Oh, Claire and I are going to have a talk about **this** the next time I see her,_ I vowed grimly. 

At least the party dress was devoid of bustle, frills and other silliness. Just a simple silk gown in a shade of golden brown that matched my eyes. It came slightly off the shoulders and was moderately draped, the panels held up by velvet ribbons. I could reach the buttons in back easily, which was fortunate, as I didn’t want to have to ask Call for help in dressing me. 

I sat at the vanity and regarded myself critically. I hadn't had to think about my appearance for some time, so I was prepared for it to be unpleasant.

But it wasn’t. With time had come a mellowing of my self-image. I'd accepted I would never be tall or slender, and that my life as a homesteader gave me muscles and a tan, rough hands and broken nails. A least the color of the dress looked nice against my skin and accented the things about me that made me a woman.

And out in my kitchen was a man who had gone to all the trouble to choose these clothes for me. Even if they felt strange, I had to admit to myself that it was gratifying to be thought of in such a manner.

I put my hair into a simple twist, put on my family ring, and affixed my mother's cameo around my neck. Then I put on my new shoes and went back into the main room.

The softness of the firelight and the one or two lamps made the silk dress shine with amber tints, looking like mellow flames.

Call looked at me from the table, not saying anything, but gesturing for me to join him. There was a sumptuous dinner spread out before him. He pulled out my chair and then sat next to me.

"Aden, you --"

"Call, what is all this?" I burst with pent up bafflement. "This is too much. I know it couldn't've been cheap. Why are you doing this?" 

My words came out in a torrent and showed no sign of stopping, until Call placed his fingertips on my lips. He took them away and smiled a bit sadly, looking as if I had acted exactly as he'd expected.

I wondered if I'd been a bit harsh when I saw that smile. _Maybe I should just enjoy the clothes in the spirit in which they have been given,_ I thought ruefully.

Call had silently turned to his food and started eating. As he raised his fork for another bite, I pushed his hand aside and kissed him on the mouth.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling ashamed at my ingratitude.

"It’s all right, Aden. Eat your supper." Call replied quietly.

"No, it isn't. You’re trying to do something nice for me and I’m acting like a spoiled brat. I don’t want you to feel as if I don’t appreciate what you’ve given me," I stroked his hand once, feeling the boniness of his knuckles. "I guess I just don't understand all this extravagance for a town social."

Call put down his fork and leaned back in his chair. "Call it an investment."

"Investment? In what?"

"In a memory," Call explained. I must have continued to look puzzled, because he elaborated. 

"For a lonely night on the trail, or when things ain't going right, or for some other bad time. This'll be something real special to look back on," he finished.

I stared at him in amazement. In a million years I would never have expected stoic Call to be nursing such sentiments.

"Why, Call, I do believe you are a hopeless romantic!" I exclaimed, smiling.

Call looked embarrassed, and gave me a tiny smile, barely a quirk of his lips. "My wife called me that once. Still not sure I know what she meant by it."

I was always careful about mentioning Call's wife, so I said, "I'll bet you know more than you're letting on. I'll bet she knew how to dance, too."

"She did. She taught me and I'm going to teach you."

"Call, I forgot to tell you something," I said solemnly.

"What?" Call asked with some trepidation.

I leaned close to him and whispered into his ear, "You sure look handsome in that suit."

He turned his head and our lips met in a warm lingering kiss.

"I _was_ trying to tell you that you looked beautiful before," Call said softly.

"Thank you."

"Eat your supper, Aden," Call suggested, and I meekly did so.

***

Call set up the phonograph and then led me to the hearth. He showed me some basic steps and then turned the crank on the machine and put the needle on the cylinder. Then he approached me and took my hands.

"Ow."

"Sorry," I said.

"Ow! You're supposed to let _me_ lead."

" _Sorry._ " I repeated with snappish emphasis.

The machine wound down and Call went to recrank it. I took off my shoes, so as to preserve Call's nice new boots.

We started again. It actually wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, and after a few re-cranks on the phonograph, we were dancing very well together.

As I had to concentrate less on my dancing, I could concentrate more on Call. My nose was about level with his collarbone and I could smell the scent of soap and shaving lotion on his jaw. I closed my eyes, just feeling the movement.

I was so lost in our activity that I didn't even notice the phonograph had wound down.

"Aden, you have to let me wind the phonograph," Call said softly.

"I do?"

Call gently disengaged himself and turned to the machine. I did not wish to leave the warmth of his regard and followed him to the phonograph with my hands on his shoulders and my forehead between his shoulder blades.

"What're you doing?" Call asked, a smile in his voice.

"Letting you lead."

He turned to me and led me in the dance steps one more time. He held me closer this time and I could feel his breath in my ear.

"You're doing real well," he said quietly.

"You're a good teacher," I replied.

The phonograph wound down again and Call turned to rewind it. I followed him with my arms around his waist. When he stopped at the table the machine was on, I pressed myself into his back.

Call looked slyly over his shoulder. "Aden, it'd be a damn shame to muss your pretty new dress before the dance."

He turned to face me without disengaging my arms. Smiling wryly, he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. He slowly unbuttoned my dress until it stood open in back. He slid the smooth silk off my shoulders and down to the floor, assisting me in stepping out of it. I stood before him in the extremely feminine undergarments that Claire had chosen as he carefully arranged the dress on a chair.

Call turned back to me and stopped, gazing down at me in speechless wonder. I quirked an eyebrow, arms folded across the corset.

"You didn't pick out this stuff, did you?" I asked.

"No, but I like it. It's almost like you been gift-wrapped."

I smiled slightly at that. Slipping my hands under his jacket, I carefully removed it and placed it on the chair next to my dress. I untied his string tie and laid it by the jacket, unbuttoned his vest, and then his shirt. I draped his clothes over a chair and restarted the phonograph. His skin was hot under my hands and I could taste the tang of salt when I put my lips to his collarbone.

Call slipped a finger under the strap of my shift and slid it down. Looking into my eyes, he untied the ribbons on the front of my corset one-handed and then let it drop off me, along with the shift. I looked down at myself, naked to the waist just as he was.

"That's a neat trick," I said. "Where'd you learn that?"

"Roping cattle," Call replied. I threw back my head and laughed.

"Oh, it's a very good thing I'm not sentimental, Call!"

Call smiled slightly, swaying gently with me. He ran his fingertips down the middle of my back and I shivered.

"Neither am I," he whispered, kissing my neck. "But I'm beginning to believe that we're both romantics."

I pulled him close, pressing my breasts into his chest, feeling shy. Call's naked body I could deal with. His naked emotions were another matter entirely.

As we moved together, I reached down and unbuttoned the fly of his trousers. Without suspenders holding them up, they slid off Call's narrow hips and puddled on the floor around his feet. I scooped them up and arranged them neatly on another chair. He slid his fingers under the garters of my stockings and let them work themselves down until I could kick them off.

Call wore undershorts that seemed to be a masculine version of my pantalets. I slid my hands under the waistband and caressed Call's bottom. I felt his surprised exhalation in my ear as I stroked my thumb along one curve.

"I need to wind the phonograph, Aden," he whispered.

"Take off your briefs first," I whispered back.

Call looked in my face and grinned. He shucked his briefs and then, before I could do anything, pulled my pantalets down.

"Hey!" I gasped.

"Fair's fair." Call replied, pulling me against him and kissing me soundly. The contact between our naked bodies was sheer lightning and I gasped. He held me against him and kissed me until I was breathless.

Then Call set me back on my feet and turned to rewind the phonograph as I wavered there. The music started again and Call drew me to him to dance. We rocked together gently, following the steps of the dance, our bodies lightly pressed together. Call kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheeks and, lightly, my lips. I nuzzled his shoulder and squeezed his back.

"Call, I'm burning up," I whispered urgently.

"Hush. Keep dancing," Call replied, taking my hair from its twist and running his hands through it. "Your hair looks like a sunset in this light." he murmured, letting it fall through his fingers. It felt amazing, like the silk of my dress. 

I could feel Call's arousal between us. I slipped a hand down and squeezed lightly.

Call moaned, knees buckling slightly. "Need to sit if you’re going to do that."

I giggled and led Call to the chair by the fire. He collapsed into it theatrically.

"I am overcome," he said, staring at me standing naked between his legs.

"I haven't even started," I replied, straddling his lap. Call's hands cupped my face and pulled my mouth to his. I wrapped my legs around his and undulated against him, slipping on the sweat built up between us. Call slid me up and kissed my collarbones, my breasts, arching me backward with tiny nibbling kisses around their small circumference until he reached the nipples, which he sucked and tongued roughly. I was out of my mind, my fingers tangled in his hair, holding his mouth onto me.

Call's hands slid down my hips, onto my thighs and around to my bottom. He pressed me against him and moved me against his cock. I clutched his shoulders, trying desperately to reach my pinnacle.

"Ow!" I exclaimed. Call stopped immediately.

"You all right?"

"Yeah...let's just...go to the bed. I got a cramp in my leg..." I gasped, feeling the pain like a dousing with cold water.

Call stood and took my hand. When we reached my room I realized that the boxes were still on the bed. I was all for just sweeping them onto the floor, but Call stacked them carefully on the trunk.

Then I was tossed onto the bed and Call was on me, fierce and animal. I laughed and opened myself to him.

***

I awoke late, sweetly sore after our night of lovemaking. Call sprawled next to me, on his back, completely boneless. He snored gently.

I got up quietly and put on my robe. Going out into the main room, I built up the fire and cleaned up from the night before. I stroked the silk of my party dress and smiled to myself.

"Like a sunset," I said, and laughed softly.

***

Call stayed at my farm that whole week. It was a nice change in routine, especially since he took over all care of the horses. If he wanted to muck out the stalls, that was just dandy with me. He also helped me to repair my fences and the roofing on the house and barn.

I spent this spare time getting my spring cleaning done with early. This was a great bonus, as I usually had to do it in the evenings after a full day outside doing farmwork.

We continued our dance lessons in the evenings, moving from slow movements to jigs and reels, until I was proficient in all that Call knew.

And of course there were the nights. We learned each other's bodies very well, each other's preferences and tastes. We learned how to sleep together. We became even more comfortable with one another.

***

I leaned up on my elbow and looked at the play of moonlight on Call's sleeping body, turning the skin luminous and pale. He had so many scars. I traced a fatal-looking bullet wound with my fingertips. Call shivered, reached up without opening his eyes, and held my hand flat against where I'd just caressed him.

"You all right?" 

"I'm fine. Why?"

"You seem restless," Call interlaced his fingers with mine and drew me closer.

“I’m sorry. Sometimes I can’t sleep.”

Call released my hand and faced me. He pulled me tightly to him, so I could feel him hard against my stomach.

"I'd say I didn't wear you out enough," Call stated, rolling me onto my back.

"I don't think I'd argue with you," I replied, before Call pinned me down and kissed me.

***

"Did you feel that?"

"Oh, God, yes."

"No, it was different, somehow."

"With you, it's always different," Call flopped down beside me, catching his breath.

"Flatterer," I shoved him playfully.

"Ain't flattery if it's the truth." Call wrapped his arms around my waist and snuggled into me.

"Thank you," I said softly. His deep even breaths indicated that he was asleep.

Bewildered, I rolled onto my side. Something had shifted that time, something I couldn't quite name or place. I drifted off to sleep with a question in my mind.

***

"Where are you going?" I asked Call, who was sitting in the dooryard on the Hellbitch.

"Got an errand to run. I'll be back this afternoon." Call turned and galloped off.

"Well, fine. Don’t tell me," I muttered, and set about my daily duties.

Noon passed. Then three. I started preparations for dinner, glancing worriedly out the window. It looked like rain.

I heard hoofbeats and rushed onto the porch. Call was riding the Hellbitch and leading a beautiful silvery grey mare behind her.

"What's this?" I asked.

Call dismounted and led the mare over to me.

"You need a better horse for riding than those plowhorses," he said.

I held my hands out to the mare and she thrust her nose into them.

“Hey there, beautiful girl,” I murmured, stroking her cheek, “Oh, Call, she's lovely! Where did she come from?"

“I asked one of the Hat Creek fellas to bring her down for you."

I stared at Call, speechless. The mare swung her head around and nudged me in the shoulder.

"I --" I swallowed, denying the import of this to myself. "I don't know how to thank you."

"I do," Call replied, giving me a hungry look.

"Get the horses settled and I'll show you how grateful I am." I walked back to the porch, putting an extra swing in my hips. I looked back at Call, who seemed transfixed.

"Well?" I said. "Get moving!"

Call turned smartly and brought the horses into the stable at a trot while I  
re-entered the house, giggling.

***

We packed the wagons the night before the social. All the dressy items were in my wagon, carefully packed. Call would be driving Mattie's wagon and returning Dr. Cleese's phonograph and cylinders.

I was glad that Mattie was out of town. I knew that explaining my presence at the social with Call would be rather difficult. Mattie was an old and dear friend. I knew that she had been in love with Call for a while, and I didn't want to hurt her.

"This has been a wonderful week," I said to Call later, in bed.

"You excited about tomorrow?"

"Guess so. I don't really know what to expect."

“ _I_ expect you'll be the prettiest lady there," Call said with some pride.

I snorted. "I am _not_ a lady, Call. Miss Cerney will be the prettiest _lady_."

"No, I don't expect that you _are_ a lady. You are most definitely a woman." Call stated ruminatively.

"You noticed, did you?" I smiled in the dark.

"I got a good eye," he replied.

"Among other things," I held Call's hand to my mouth and kissed the knuckles. 

"'Night, Newt Call."

"'Night, Aden Selkirk. You beautiful woman."

I snorted again and buried my face between Call's shoulder blades.

***

We set out very early the next day, wanting to leave time to return Mattie's wagon and get rooms at the Lonesome Dove.

"Separate rooms?" I'd asked. "Why?"

Call had looked a little uncomfortable.

"It ain't seemly --" he'd started. I'd waited, not really angry, just curious to see what he would say.

"We ain't married, so Amanda won't give us a room together anyway." Call had said.

"And she's so discriminating, too," I'd said archly.

"Aden, I'd just as soon not have people talk --"

"About you? Why should you care?"

"About _you_." Call had taken my hands. "I don't care what folks say about me."

I had shaken my head, annoyed. “I don’t care what folks say about me, either.”

"I do. I don't want nobody else's judgments on you. You're too special for that."

What could I have said to that? I acquiesced.

So we got separate rooms in Curtis Wells. I was a little amused at Call's delicacy of feeling, but flattered, as well.

When we got to town, I turned Castor and Pollux towards the livery and then hired a stableboy to help cart our belongings to the hotel.

I'd gotten the last available room in the hotel, as many of the families from outlying farms had also made the trek into town for the social. I went up to Call's room and put his clothing away, then went to my room to do the same. There was a knock at my door.

"Come in!" I called. Claire Cerney entered in a rustling of skirts and a faint trace of lilac eau de toilette.

"Claire! How nice to see you!" I exclaimed, genuinely delighted. We could almost have been sisters, we both had dark hair, but her eyes were hazel where mine were tawny. And she was taller, but that didn't really signify. Nearly everyone was taller than me.

"I ran into Mr. Call outside and he said you were up here. I'm so glad you came to the social!" Claire sat on the bed. She looked wonderful, as usual. She had the most porcelain skin I'd ever seen. I felt like a Moor in comparison, my farmer's tan enhancing my already honey-colored skin.

"Thanks for helping Call to pick out those clothes." I said. "Though the underthings were a bit much."

Claire laughed. "Mr. Call did most of the choosing, but he became absolutely tongue-tied whenever I got _near_ the subject of your unmentionables. So I had fun picking them out myself. I wanted to surprise you both!"

"Claire!" I stared at her, scandalized. For all her ladylike demeanor, Claire Cerney was at least as knowledgeable in the ways of the world as Twyla herself.

"You have a very dirty mind, Miss Cerney," I said, laughing with her.

"So, are you excited?" she asked. I sat next to her on the bed.

"Not really," I replied. "I have to dress up. And dance. And -- mingle."

Claire shoved my shoulder. "You really _are_ an old hermit. It's a wonder Mr. Call ever even found you."

"I come out of my cave every so often," I protested.

"Rarely."

"All right. Rarely. If Curtis Wells were more congenial, I might visit more often."

" _That's_ why we're having the social!" Claire clapped her hands in emphasis. "Are you going to need any help tomorrow?"

"With what?"

"Getting ready. Your clothes, your hair, that sort of thing."

"You'd help?" I asked, pleased. Claire would know the most current way to fix my hair, and while I didn’t usually care about that sort of thing, if I were going to dress up, I wanted to do it right.

"Of course. It's my Christian duty to extend charity to those in need," Claire said, a mock-serious look on her face.

"Then far be it from me to interfere or try to stop you," I giggled. 

"Wonderful! I'll come over tomorrow after I get ready," Claire bounced one more time on the bed and then stood.

"I have to go. Call said he'd meet you back here for supper, but he had to run a few errands."

"Oh. Thanks, Claire. I'll see you tomorrow!"

After Claire left I pulled off my boots and settled on the bed with a book, whiling away the time before supper.

***

I placed the hat on my head and regarded my image in the mirror. Not bad. Really not bad at all. The walking outfit was pale yellow shot through with thin brown stripes. It had minimal underskirting and a tightly-buttoned matching jacket. The hat was made of straw, wide-brimmed, and had a yellow silk ribbon around the crown. I felt very sophisticated, like the sort of woman that would have a separate outfit merely to go for walks in. The hues suited my coloring perfectly. Claire and Call had done a very good job with their choices.

There was a knock at the door. "Aden, you ready?" Call asked.

"Just a minute." I stepped into the shoes and quickly buttoned them. Then I opened the door.

Call continued his trend of being clean and groomed. He wore the same outfit he'd worn to my house a week ago. He held his hat in his hand, and when he laid eyes on me, he broke into a smile.

"You look beautiful," he said, and offered me his arm.

"Thank you.” I replied. "You look good too," I added.

"Thanks."

We went outside to a town transformed. There were so many people! Everyone was dressed up, people were calling greetings, and there was a riot of items to purchase, from jams to quilts. I clutched Call's arm, a little overwhelmed. We descended to the street and mingled.

By midafternoon, I needed a rest. I had spoken with more people in one day than I had in the previous year. In the course of that day I had bought preserves, haircombs, made a deal with the blacksmith for shoeing in exchange for salves, and posed for a photograph.

That was another of Call's ideas. He wanted a keepsake of the day and insisted I pose for one.

"You just want a permanent record of me in a dress," I'd said.

"You was wearing your regular clothes I'd still want one," Call had replied. "It's still _you_."

I'd smiled. "I want one of you too, then."

So we'd both separately stood still for a very long time and been promised the photographs the next day.

"Call, how long until the dance?" I asked afterwards.

"Seven. It's 3:30 now. Why?"

"I'm just awfully tired. Do you think I could go back to the hotel for a while and rest? Otherwise I'll be no good for the dance."

"I'll walk you back," Call escorted me to the Dove and left me on the porch with a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I'll come by for you at 6:30."

"Thanks, Call." I went into the hotel, welcoming the peace and cool. I was so unaccustomed to crowds that I was worn out. I went into my room, struggled out of my shoes, and collapsed onto the bed. In no time I was asleep.

***

"Aden? Can I come in?" a firm rapping awakened me. Disoriented, I sat up.

"Who is it?"

"Claire, Aden. I'm here to help you dress, remember?"

I groaned and got up. "More dresses," I muttered. "Coming!"

I let Claire in, who was a vision in a deep plum gown, with matching amethyst earrings.

"You look wonderful," I told her.

"Thank you! Did you have a nice rest?"

"I don't remember. I assume so."

Claire laughed. "Now, the first thing we'll need is to get you washed up." She went downstairs and returned shortly with an ewer of warm water. While I sponged off, she set out my party clothes and ornaments. I put on all the fussy undergarments, the stockings, the dress, and then Claire wielded a comb and did some things to my hair. She wouldn't let me look at myself until she was finished, so all I felt was a lot of tugging and my scalp being scraped with pins.

"You will love it, I promise," was all she said. She slipped my cameo around my neck and turned me towards the washstand mirror. I gasped.

When I had worn the dress a week ago, I had just thrown my hair into a bun and nothing more. Claire had pulled it into a sophisticated chignon at the back of my head with some wispy tendrils framing my face. It wasn't something I'd've thought of doing. I felt as if I were gazing at a stranger in the mirror. A very pretty stranger.

"Claire, this is amazing. I don't know how to thank you," I touched my head delicately.

"Seeing you look so nice and having a good time is ample thanks," Claire glanced at the watch on her necklace. "I must go, Mr. Mosby is my escort and he'll be by to collect me soon. I'll see you at the dance!" Claire gathered up her skirts and swirled out of my room. I paced, too nervous about crushing the dress to sit down, and awaited Call's arrival.

Not soon enough, I heard steps outside my door and a knock. "Aden? You ready?"

I picked up the shawl and slipped it over my shoulders and opened the door.  
Call caught his breath when he saw me. I looked down at myself and then back at him, a nervous smile on my face.

"Do I...look all right?"

Call took my hand and pulled me to him, kissing me lustily.

"You look incredible," he said, slipping my hand through his arm. We headed out into the cool twilight towards the Opera House of the West. Music spilled from the open doors.

I didn't really notice I was dragging my feet until Call tugged at my hand.

"Come _on_ , Aden. You have to go in eventually." Humor tinged his voice.

"I do?"

"You look beautiful and I want everyone to see you."

"See me?" I exclaimed.

" _Now_ , Aden." Call propelled me gently but firmly through the doorway by the small of my back.

There were musicians on the stage, and the same people I'd seen on the street earlier that day were there, all gussied up in their individual finery. There was a table laden with food, punch and sweets. I made a beeline for it.

I grabbed a glass of punch like a lifeline and turned to take a more composed look at the crowd.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Some folks danced, younger people eyed one another across the floor, and children chased each other around the posts of the building. The fiddler started to play.

Suddenly, Call was by my side. "Dance, Aden?"

I must've looked spooked because Call smiled gently and added, "Please?"

I put down my glass and took Call's hand. We moved together and suddenly the world dropped away and it was only us and the music.

Across the room, Claire nudged her escort, Mr. Clay Mosby.

"Look," she said. Mosby turned his head in the direction indicated.

"Well I never -- is that Miss Selkirk?" he asked Claire, astonished.

"It is, indeed," Claire replied, smiling.

"Who is her partner?"

"You mean you don't recognize him?" Claire teased.

"Hmm..." Mosby squinted, and then looked completely taken aback. "Is that Call?"

"Yes, it is." Claire was enjoying Mosby's discomfiture. "Doesn't Aden look lovely?"

"She does." Mosby was lost in thought. She looked even more fetching in that dress than she had in the one that she wore for their dinner together...

He shook his head, dislodging the thought, and turned to Claire.

"Would it offend you if I were to ask Miss Selkirk for a dance?" Mosby queried.

Claire smiled at him, enjoying how disarmed he seemed.

"Not in the slightest. Mr. Call seems an able partner," she replied.

The music stopped and the couples dancing turned and applauded the players. I smiled at Call.

"That really was fun!" I exclaimed. Call smiled back at me, but then his expression changed to one of guarded hostility as he looked past my shoulder.

"Mr. Call, I barely recognized you over here," Mosby's voice, smooth as silk, flowed past my ears. "And Miss Selkirk, you are truly a vision."

I turned and felt Mosby's gaze travel across my body. I resisted the urge to adjust my shawl across my decolletage and looked up at him sardonically.

"You'll have to thank Miss Cerney for that," I replied. "She helped me get dressed. And it was Call who chose the dress."

"I didn't know you had such an eye for ladies' finery, Mr. Call," Mosby said, looking over at my escort, who bristled silently.

"Miss Selkirk, would you care to partner me in a dance?"

Startled, I looked over at Call. Through gritted teeth he said, "Aden can dance with whoever she wants."

Narrowing my eyes, I said, "Perhaps you'd do me the favor of taking Miss Cerney for a turn round the floor while I'm dancing with Mr. Mosby?" There was steel in that question, and my tone stated it was _not_ a request.

"I'd love to," Call ground out, and politely took Claire's hand. Mosby took my elbow and twirled me into position.

"You are absolutely stunning in that dress," Mosby remarked to me as he took me in his arms. I turned my head to see Call's gaze boring a hole in Mosby. 

Catching his eye, I winked and stuck my tongue out at him. Call's look of startlement was my reward, and it looked as if he might start paying attention to Claire instead of me after that.

"It's the dress. And the novelty of seeing me in it," I said dismissively.

Mosby leaned down. "It isn't just the dress," he murmured into my ear. "It's the woman in the dress."

I shivered and looked up at him, finding whiskey-dark eyes fixed intensely on mine. I very suddenly felt completely stripped.

"You're treading on dangerous ground, Mr. Mosby," I said. He caressed my inner wrist with his thumb. 

"Don't you know? That's one of my favorite places to be."

"And here I was thinking it was Florie's bed at Twyla's," I murmured in mock dismay. "I don't take shock well."

Mosby chuckled and twirled me expertly. "Have you always known how to dance, Miss Selkirk?"

"Never until last week, when Call taught me."

Mosby looked surprised, and then laughed lightly, as if at himself. "He did a fine job."

"Yes, he did." I replied. We moved around the floor silently, Clay's technique flawless.

As the music drew to a close, Clay brought my hand to his lips and thanked me. Almost instantly, it seemed, Call was by my side, handing off Claire to Clay.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Call." Claire said pertly. He smiled briefly but sincerely at her.

"It was my pleasure," he said, taking my hand and leading me in another figure.

***

"Why didn't you just piss on my leg?"

"What?" Call choked out in astonishment, tripping on the boardwalk. 

"If you and Mosby are going to have a territorial dispute over me, why don't you just piss on my leg and get it over with?" I walked quickly and angrily in the confining skirts back to the hotel. The night was chilly and the shawl wasn't doing enough to keep me warm. 

I noticed that Call had stopped and I turned to face him.

"Well?"

"Aden, it ain't about you."

"Not much," I muttered.

"You're just in the middle."

"If you say so."

“Mosby only wants you because you’re with me.” 

The insult inherent in this statement took my breath away. 

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” I said incredulously. I turned away, skirts swirling, intending to finish storming back to the hotel. 

“He’s always wanted what’s mine,” Call continued from behind me. I turned back to him, furious.

“I ain't yours! Just because you bought me some pretty clothes doesn’t give you the right to be possessive! I ain't a chess piece for your past resentments!”

This was the closest I’d ever gotten to a criticism of Call’s self-destructive spiral after his wife’s death. Then again, fair was fair. The look of fury on Call’s face showed me he knew it, too. 

He strode over to me and looked down at me, eyes burning. I glared up at him, hands fisted at my sides, chest heaving. 

“Mosby wants to put you in a cage and use you to mock me,” Call said, in a quiet, dangerous voice. “I won’t let that happen.”

“Because your pride can’t take it?” I snapped. 

Call clamped his hand around my wrist and dragged me into an alley. It was futile to resist his angry strength.

He pushed me against the wall and covered my mouth with his. He held me to him and fiercely possessed my mouth with lips and tongue as I tried to shove him away, to no avail. 

“Because you’re right,” Call said, when he broke the kiss. “You ain't mine. You ain't Mosby’s. You ain't a game piece. You’re your own. Mosby trying to use you just makes me mad.”

Nothing could take the wind out of the sails of my rage like an admission of my rightness. 

“Why?”

“You're free to choose, Aden, and you chose. You chose to come here with me tonight. Mosby and his digs is disrespectful of that. Like I can’t tell he considers me too stupid to figure out what he's doing. Or you don’t know your own mind.”

“You think I didn’t notice?” I replied, hand on his chest. “I only had one dance with him, Call. I left with you.”

“I know. That makes it feel like you’re mine.”

“I. Ain't. Yours.” I repeated. “Any more than you are mine.”

“Maybe tonight I’d like for you to be,” Call said, and I gasped as I felt him caress my breasts through the silk of my dress. My nipples hardened and pressed against the fabric.

“Maybe for tonight I’d like you to be mine, too,” I replied. “But you owe me an apology first.”

Call, who had been leaning down to kiss me, stopped. “What for?”

“For saying Mosby only wants me because I’m with you.”

Call grinned, and it was not a grin I entirely liked. He bent down and brushed his lips against my cheekbone, whispering, “I’m sorry, Aden. Mosby wants you because you’re beautiful,” he kissed my neck, “you’re independent,” he brought his hands up to my head, entangling his fingers in my hair, “you’re smart,” his lips trailed across my collarbones, “and strong. That’s why I want you, too.”

“Oh, you’re forgiven,” I breathed, clinging to his jacket. "Mmmm, Call?"

"Yes?" He murmured into my skin.

"Didn't this happen the last time you saw me in a dress?"

Call chuckled. He hauled my legs up over his hips, and I squeaked in surprise. His hands went under my bottom, and he braced me against the wall. I tried to steady myself with my arms around his neck and my ankles hooked together behind him. We kissed in a frenzy, the only skin-to-skin contact we could manage. I whimpered into Call’s mouth as he thrust himself against me, frustrated at how little we could do, how much clothing we had between us. Would I let him take me in public, in the dark, against an alley wall? 

The way that I felt in that moment, I very well might have, if I could have worked out the logistics. 

"I want you so much right now, Aden," Call gasped, my hair wound around his fingers. I moaned, tilting my head back to feel his lips on my throat, clutching at his shoulders. 

“Please,” I whispered.

Suddenly a large group of people passed the mouth of the alley, talking and laughing loudly. Call and I froze, even though we couldn’t have been seen in the shadows. 

Call rested his forehead on my shoulder, breathing hard, obviously composing himself. He let me down gently, holding my waist until I was steady on my feet. I arranged my skirts self-consciously, trying to smooth my ruined hair. Call straightened his shirt, tucking it back into his trousers.

Then we looked at each other and laughed.

"Let me...walk you to your room," Call smiled. He proffered his arm and I took it. He left me at my room with a brief kiss and a promise to meet me for breakfast in the dining room.

I undressed and brushed my hair. I was too tired to even think about the evening’s events, so despite my body clamoring in frustration for release, I fell right to sleep.

***

The next morning we breakfasted and I packed away our nice clothes carefully. Call had asked me to leave his with Claire to store, so I brought them to her quarters above her shop.

"So, did you have a nice time?" Claire asked.

"It was all right," I replied, fiddling with my belt buckle.

"Only all right? All the work I did and it was _all right_? Do you know how many men asked me about you last night?" I shook my head. "Lots. Anyway, it is my considered opinion that if you think dancing with Mr. Call is only passable, you must be quite insane."

"Dancing with Call was the best part. I liked it," I smiled slightly. "I really did enjoy myself. But I'm glad to be getting home and back into my regular clothes." 

I paused. 

"How many men?" I asked.

Claire laughed. "A few. Where's Mr. Call?"

"Getting the horses and wagon."

***

Call, in his everyday outfit, walked down the boardwalk towards the livery. Passing the sheriff's office, he took a pile of Wanted posters and stuffed them into the pocket of his jacket without breaking stride.

"Mr. Call."

Call stopped in his tracks and turned warily. Clay Mosby was behind him on the boardwalk, lighting a cheroot. He smirked at the young man.

"That was quite a surprise you gave us yesterday, partaking in our festivities." continued Mosby. "I didn't know you were such an accomplished dancer. Miss Cerney was duly impressed."

Call glanced down and then looked up at Mosby with a cold smile.

"You keep losing women to me, Mosby," Call said, striding off.

***

"Aden, you ready to go?"

I turned to the door, where Call stood.

"Yes. Thanks again, Claire."

"Any time. Oh, and Mr. Call --"

Call looked over at Claire. She smiled at him and said, "Thank you for the dance. It was really quite nice. If you ever need help buying Aden frilly things again, don't hesitate to stop by."

Call's cheeks stained a delicate pink and he ducked his head. Touching his hatbrim, he swung around the doorjamb to wait on the wagon seat.

"You are just plain evil, Claire," I said on my way out. Her laugh followed me into the cold bright morning.

I climbed onto the wagon seat next to Call. "Did you get the photographs?" I asked.

"Back there." Call indicated the wagon bed with a nod as he urged the horses forward.

"Did you look at them?"

Call shook his head. I schooled my impatience, deciding to wait until I was home to see them.

We settled into a companionable silence, bouncing up and down in the seat. It seemed as if we were both glad to be away from town. We spent the drive that way, both lost in our individual thoughts. Mine dwelled on the previous evening: the dress, Call's reaction to it, _Mosby’s_ reaction to it. Dancing. How good it felt to be in my normal clothes again. That interlude in the alley and my sudden ambivalence about our informal, unspoken agreement.

I looked over at Call, wondering what was in his mind. The reins were easy in his hands and he surveyed the track ahead with a peaceful look on his face.

Sensing my gaze, he cast a glance at me. "What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about how glad I am to be back to my usual self."

"You sure did look beautiful last night," Call's hand stroked my knee.

"I _felt_ beautiful. But it was only a game. Like dress-up. This is who I really am."

"Can't you be both?"

"Can you be?"

Call was silent for a minute. Then, "I don't know."

"Me neither."

We left it at that and the rest of the drive passed eventless.

We got to the farm early in the afternoon and I sent the middle Nelsen child home. Call got the horses settled as I brought our gear in and made up some sandwiches. I turned to Call as he came in.

"Hungry?" I asked.

"Yes," Call growled, pressing me against the counter, parting my lips with his tongue, my legs with his knee. He held me there with his hips, kissing me furiously, as he unbuttoned my shirt. After my initial shock, I kissed Call back just as hard, pushing against him. I knocked his hat off, struggling with his shirt buttons. I gasped as Call's fingers found my flesh. He stroked my ribs and I shuddered against him, moaning.

"Don't you ever wear underclothes?" Call queried in a murmur, his palms cupping my breasts.

"Not really." I replied, wriggling against his hands. He yanked my shirt off the rest of the way and unbuttoned my trousers.

"Call! Here?"

"I can't wait." Call's fingers were flames, stroking my body frenziedly. "I keep thinking of you in that dress. The alley. How beautiful you are no matter what you're wearing."

"That was just the dress!" I had Call's shirt off as I protested. I kissed his shoulder, feeling his skin burn against my lips.

"No, Aden." Call stopped and looked into my eyes, serious for a moment. "No. It wasn't the dress. It was you. It _is_ you," He kissed me, a kiss that started out as gentle and ended up as hard and needy.

"Show me?" I pleaded, and then demanded, "Show me!"

He did. 

Call’s gunbelt crashed to the floor taking his trousers with it, and then he peeled my pants over my hips until they were crumpled around my ankles. Call kicked my legs wider. He cupped my bottom in his hands and lifted me onto him. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, gripped him with my knees. He held me against the counter by my hips and slammed into me.

This was miles away from the comfortable sessions of lovemaking we'd enjoyed in the past week. This was pure need, hunger from having to behave the past few days. It was making up for the interruption in the alley the previous night.

It was complete white heat and Call came inside me nearly immediately, bucking his hips and letting out a relieved groan, his breath hot on my skin.

I stroked Call's back, frustrated. Sometimes it was like that. There wasn't a time when I didn't want Call. But he reached his crisis much more quickly than I did. Sometimes I didn't mind, and I liked the way he took me. It was gratifying, in a way, when I would brush my hair from my face and look at him and he'd be on me suddenly.

But sometimes it wasn't enough. So it was nice that he was amenable to helping out.

"Finish me, Call." I said, breathless, squirming against him. "Come on."

"What do you want?" Call swivelled his hips gently. I gripped the edge of the counter with my hands.

"Just...keep going like that." I gasped. Call eased into me, and delicately moved in, then out. He was just hard enough that I could feel him in different places than I usually would. 

"More...more..." I cried, feeling my own release coming. “Oh...oh, Call!” I came hard, giving a long wail, rattled to my very bones.

Call held me against him until I finished shuddering.

"You all right?" he asked gently.

"Fine, now," I snuggled my head into his shoulder. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." Call smiled down at me. As my post-coital haze receded, I became aware of the counter digging into my butt and my legs cramping.

"Let me down," I slid off both Call and the counter and pulled up my pants. When I turned from fastening them, I saw Call taking a bite from the sandwich I'd made. I gave him an annoyed look and he returned it with an unconcerned, one-shouldered shrug.

"At _least_ get dressed first," I said, and went into the sitting room to draw a bath.

We both ate, bathed and fell into bed. I was happy to be home. Call seemed contented as well, he curled against me with ease and a soft sigh.

"'Night, Mr. Call."

"'Night, _Miss_ Selkirk."

***

"Hmmm," I said, staring down at the photograph.

"Don't you like it?" Call asked, chewing on a biscuit.

"Oh, I like yours. Yours came out really nice. I just have no idea who this person is." I gestured to my stiff, well-dressed image on the pasteboard.

"Well, _I_ like it." Call took the photograph from me and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

I took in the sight of him, boots, jacket, hat on the table. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

"Yep."

Call's terseness for once robbed me of any response, so I dropped my gaze to his photograph. It was like him, and yet unlike him. This image could _remind_ me of Call, but it would never _be_ him.

"I'll walk you out," I said, finally, and put the photograph on the table.

We strolled to the porch, where the sunlight was striving to banish the chill from the air. We stood awkwardly together and I said softly, "I'll miss you." 

It was the first time I’d ever let him know that his leaving affected me.

Call stroked my chin with his thumb but otherwise said nothing.

"Thanks for making that investment. I'm glad we went to the social after all."

Call's somber look lightened and he smiled. Kissing me lightly, he said, "My pleasure, ma'am. Now we both have something real special to look back on." He walked over to the Hellbitch and mounted. Without looking back, he rode away.

"Don't stay away so long...and stay longer," I whispered at his retreating figure.

I turned to go into the house and clutched the doorjamb as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over me. _What_ was the matter with me? I'd been feeling that way since the social. I hoped I hadn't gotten sick being around so many people.

Shaking my head, I went into the house to prepare for my day.


End file.
